#i am definitely going to stare at this for decades and AGES

[notthesaint]

Hiii, I wanted to draw a Winged Nosk dragon for a while. Figured the Winged Nosk person's birthday would be a perfect opportunity to do so.

Happy birthday! Hope you have a great one <3

Oh lird.. I just opened tumblr and I suddenly gotten attacked by a weird lookin creecher. HELLO?! HUH, THIS IS ABSOLUTELY AMAZING AND I AM SO FLABBERGASTED BY THIS ARTWORK 😭😭 THANK YOU SO MUCH 🧡🧡🧡

YO YO YO HOLY SHIT. I'm such a SUckER for creepy freaky creecher designs. I AM LOSINV MY MIND OVER THIS ONE

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

Hi!

I’d love a part two to your hit me hard and soft fanfic. Maybe Y/N continues to avoid them as a romantic relationship but begins to accept a platonic one liking eating with Dick or hanging out with Jason at school, etc… but the Batfam gets impatient and talks about why they are afraid (and maybe hunt down the ex which could gain their trust?)

Hit me Hard and Soft: Whispers in the Shadows

Synopsis: The relationship between the batfam gets broken after mistakes lead to accusations, and accusations lead to contingency plans.

Pairing: Yandere!Poly!Romantic!Batboys X Gn!Reader

Tw: Poly!Yandere; All characters aged up; Possible betrayal; Bad father Bruce, but is he actually the asshole here?; Arguments; Mentions of killing and torture; Possibly ooc batboys: English is my 2nd language.

Word count: 2k

Requested? Yes.

Extra notes: Not much action between Reader and the batboys here, but definitely something. Read the end to answer my question👀

General masterlist | Hit me Hard and Soft - Series masterlist

— You can't be serious.

The tension was at its highest point. Only a few times priorly did the conflict between all of them get this bad, and as always, they feared things couldn't go back to the way they were.

— I am being serious. That's how things work. — Bruce stated darkly and Dick narrowed his eyes. — We tried it the nice way, I trusted you to behave, but you couldn't do that. — Bruce raised his gloved hand and pointed at Damian. — First, Damian can't control himself. He spent a decade acting right. Justice, not vengeance. But now, he's using (Y/N) as an excuse to defile orders and act as an assassin again! — Damian hissed and clenched his fists, taking a step forward.

— If you really cared for them, you would understand, father! But as always, you put your so-called mission above everything, even us! Even them! — Bruce clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes in his direction, then turned to Jason.

— And you! How many chances do I have to give you? Both of you! You don't change. You will never change. And until you do that, you will never deserve (Y/N)’s or mine trust. Or their love. — Jason's heart broke in two, but he didn't react on the outside. Just kept his hard, Red Hood’s exterior. As he always did every time he and Bruce had a falling out.

— Bruce… — Dick muttered, a mix of a warning to remind him of not going too far, and betrayal by what he was witnessing. Bruce didn't look phased. And the fact he was still wearing Batman's suit, minus the cowl, just made this whole situation more genuine. He was neither Bruce Wayne, the persona, nor Batman, the vigilant. He was just Bruce. Their boss and their father.

— You hunted down that man, tortured and killed him! And you… — He took his gaze away from Jason and glared at Damian again. — Knew about it, and didn't notify us!

— I did know about it. Todd, you should have told us before. I also wanted that scum’s blood in my hands-

— ENOUGH! THE BOTH OF YOU WILL STAY AWAY FROM (Y/N). FOREVER.

Tim raised an eyebrow.

— Sound’s convenient. — All head’s snapped in his direction.

— What do you mean, Tim? — Dick asked. All muscles on his body tense. Tim gazed at him for a moment, then at Damian and Jason, then at Bruce again, staring directly into his eyes. — I just think it's very convenient that Bruce's getting rid of two of them. While your reason checks with past conflicts we had, with your morals and mission. It's also good for you that you wouldn't have to share (Y/N)’s attention with so many people in the future. Right, Bruce?

Silence took hold of the room.

— What are you implying? — Bruce stomped forward until he was face to face with Tim, their nose’s almost touching, daring him to say more. Tim didn't back down.

— Yeah, Tim, what're you implying? — Jason raised an eyebrow behind his helmet and took a step forward. The others copied that action.

— I’ve been watching you, Bruce. Just like you've been watching us. I know you’ve been upgrading contingency plans, more specifically, our contingency plans. I think he's been trying to keep us busy. To rile us up to commit mistakes. While he hogs all of (Y/N)’s attention. He said Damian could be trusted again if he proved himself, that was a year ago, and he still didn't give Damian permission. I bet he knew Damian would get restless and get more violent with criminals. Until he had an excuse to kick him out. And Jason, he let you spend time with (Y/N) at university. But as soon as (Y/N) started calling you their best friend, hanging out with you outside of classes and even confiding in you about their trauma, proving that our plan to make them trust us was finally working, suddenly (Y/N)’s ex receives an offer to transfer to GCPD, while everyone here has a… Weakness, when it comes to losing people we love and avenging their suffering, it's a known fact some are more… Trigger-happy than others.

Dick shook his head.

— Tim, that's something serious you're accusing him of.

— Let him continue. — Bruce growled darkly.

— I don't have anything to accuse you of, Bruce. I just don't trust you. — He shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal.

— So you're ready to brush off what they did? — Bruce accused and Dick started to feel even more restless seeing that the distance between them didn't change, feeling the urge to get in the middle and defend his little brother.

— I didn't say anything. But I wouldn't be surprised if me or Dick were next. — That made Dick snap.

No, he can't.

He can’t keep me away from them.

After everything I did.

We're just so close now.

Just earlier today we were having lunch together.

He can't.

He can't do this to me.

Is that how Jay and Dami felt? Is that why they snapped and started killing people? Is that why Jason killed that guy? Just for the idea of losing them forever?

Is that why, even with how heartbreaking and horrible it sounds, any possibility of someone trying to take them away from them made Tim voice out his paranoia? Thoughts Dick had when everything was quiet, when he just brushed it off as intrusive thoughts?

It isn't… Logical… But it also is…

The only thing stopping him from believing Tim wholeheartedly is the lifelong trust he had on Bruce. But those are just feelings. And they all feel. Intensely. For you.

And as much as they tried to make it peaceful, everyone having a piece of you and being happy. They were having problems, and a traitor was always a possibility.

Either way, he couldn't take that chance.

That night, Wayne Manor slept almost completely empty. All of the sons were gone. And you would know it too.

It's been a week. They've been meeting at the apartment just beside yours. It was empty, until Damian bought it, and started living there after cutting ties with his father. He wasn't happy that the others were also using it as their nest, a place to meet and talk about strategies. And keep an eye on you.

Damian was slowly steering his tea, mind elsewhere, not really paying mind to the conversation. While it was important, his stomach was full of butterflies and his heart pounded hard every time he thought about earlier, something he couldn't stop doing. After a whole year of being almost completely away from you, finally spending time with you was like a dream. That just made his resentment towards his father grow worse, even if he didn't do that on purpose, it still felt like injustice.

He knew since he was born, his way of doing things was always better.

He just told you he didn't know that part of the town much, and you, sweet you, already acquainted with his brothers, invited him to show him around. A bad taste came to his mouth whenever he thought he was the least close to you, even if he knew everything there was to know about his beloved. He got left behind. He let himself be left behind.

Because he was weak. Because he was submissive. Because he trusted his father.

His mother did send him to his progenitor's home saying that he needed to learn from him.

— We could use the League.

All heads snapped to him.

— Huh?

— We are talking about contingency plans for our father. We could have the League of Assassins on our side. Infinite resources against one single man. (Y/N) would live in luxury. And they did tell us… — His heart warmed at the sensation of finally feeling included in your life. — … Multiple times that they despised the cold weather Gotham always seems to have. Eth Alth'eban is always hot.

— We are not joining those fuckers, and you shut down that idea before I start believing what that old man said about you and kick your ass into your grave, demon brat. — Damian kept stoic after Jason's response.

— We could use the League for something good for once. I could. As the Head of the Demon. — He retorted with confidence.

Dick shook his head in disbelief.

— Dami, I think that's too much. It would only prove what Bruce was trying to say. — Damian leaned forward, as if getting closer would make his point come across as more genuine.

— I could do it! Not as a dictator like my grandfather! But as something actually good! Not just for us, but for everyone! The whole world!

— Does that megalomaniac plan of yours have an actual strategy? — Damian rolled his eyes.

— Of course it has. Kill anyone who gets in the way of my rightful place at birth. — Damian tilted his head at Tim, who looked at him in disbelief.

— Even Ras? — Damian frowned. What a dumb question. Damian would do anything for you.

— Especially Ras. — A fist hit the table and the oldest got up with a scowl in his face.

— No one. Is going to kill. Anyone. And we are not going to use the League. — Damian got up too.

— What is stopping you? This is for (Y/N)! It is not just some fucking petty act to annoy father. He acted behind our backs and he will take my beloved from me! From us!

— We don't know that yet! — Even with Dick's exclamation, it was clear not even him was totally sure about Bruce's intentions.

— … Failing to prepare is preparing to fail. — Tim muttered. They all observed he had a distant look on his face, it was the look he had when he was planning something. After a few seconds, he looked up again and got up, facing Damian. — I'm with you. It’ll be nice to see Ras look when he realizes he lost to me one last time. And to have whole guardianship of my spleen he keeps on his bedside table again.

— What? — The other three sputtered.

— I won't kill anyone. But I will help you and be an ally. Even if that means losing the Titans and leaving behind everything I build here. All for (Y/N). — Tim spoke. Jason got up.

— Tim, you can't be serious too. — He received a glare in return.

— I am. You're invited to join us. Or to become our enemy.

Damian was staring at Tim, the brother he always had a strange relationship with, full of fights and sarcasm, but they always knew they could count on each other in the end. Because they were family.

Of course, it would be nicer to have you all to himself, but he also needed more allies, and brilliant minds like his own. It would also hurt to lose every person he loved while choosing you, even if he would always choose you in the end.

— … What if (Y/N) doesn't trust us after this? — Dick mumbled, trying to see both sides before making a decision.

— We’ll explain to them. About how we got rid of every single individual who wanted to isolate and steal them from us. How we want to care for them. Keep them safe. And how I- We, made the world a better place in the process. — Dick glared at him halfheartedly.

— We have a solid plan here, Dick. We Just have to form our strategies based on what we have. It will work!

Dick sighed and rubbed his face with his hands. He started walking around the apartment, contemplating, listening in on your apartment and Tim and Damian in the background, trying to convince Jason.

When even Jason seemed convinced, Dick knew what he had to do.

Everyone turned to him when he came back to the table again, in expectation.

He looked Damian in the eyes and put his hand on his little brother's shoulders. So grown. So different from what he was before meeting you. You brought the worst out of him. Out of all of them. And you didn't even know it. That was the worse part.

But Dick was always known for being a manipulator.

— Congratulations, you're the new Demon's Head.

Extra note: I'm curious to if you guys think Bruce was actually planning something and not just being regular canon Batman putting his morals above family👀

Like, comment and reblog 🥰

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[cutieln4]

Matchmaker | LN4

lando norris x fem!reader, background lestappen

summary: you try getting involved in max and charles' love lives, and it turns out they're also trying to get involved in yours

At the age of 21 years old, you joined McLaren after becoming a champion in all the junior categories. This made you the first woman in modern F1, and the first woman in several decades. And if people thought that Lando had a lot of energy, they had not met you yet.

Now that your rookie season was halfway done with, you've learned two important things. 1) Lando was very easy to get along with and 2) Max and Charles were certainly in love. 

There were a couple times when you had been on the podium with them, and of course you loved being on the podium, but having to third wheel that pair would drive anyone insane. 

So, when you got back from the summer break, you decided to make it your mission to get them together. Step 1 was telling Lando about your plans.

"Landooo!" you called out as you saw him walking in the paddock up ahead, running to catch up with him. 

"Hey, Y/n/n," he greeted you with a handshake. 

"I have a plan," you said devilishly. 

"Shit, that can never be good."

"Hey! Hear me out. So, Charles and Max, you know?"

"Who? I've never heard of those people in my life," he said sarcastically. 

"Ooookay, I could do without the attitude, thanks. Anyways, I'm sure you've noticed how in love with each other they are. Like hello? They literally scream 'enemies to lovers' trope. You know what I mean? I just need to find a way to get them to confess their undying love for each other." 

Lando's eyes widened and he looked around, making sure that no one was listening before pulling you to the side.

"Oh—jeez, so, you in?"

"The entire grid has been trying to get them together for years, you think that you'll be able to do it?"

"Yeah, obviously, but I'll need a sidekick that's why I'm telling you, so...?" 

He sighed. "Alright, tell me your ideas."

"Yes!"

"But I'm not your sidekick, we're partners in crime, okay?"

"Sure, sure. Anyways, step 1 of 'el plan' is to just subtly start mentioning Max or Charles when in conversation with the other. Get them in each others brains, you know? Like 'Oh Max was saying how he hopes for rain.'

Then, step 2, we start mentioning things that they've said about each other. 'Hey Max, Charles was saying how he always loves his on track battles with you the most,' stuff like that. Then we have to start interrogating them about their love life so they can hopefully admit their feelings. That's all I got so far."

Lando nodded, deep in thought. "Okay, this could work, this could work."

~~~~~~~~~~

Charles won in Monza, with Max and yourself completing the podium. While you were getting your interview done, the two of them seemed to be locked in their "debrief".

"Am I the only one who's noticed all the chemistry between her and Lando?" Max asked.

"You're definitely not the only one, mate. Being in a press conference with those two is unbearable."

"Ugh, yes, like just kiss already. I'm glad I'm not going crazy. We need to do something about it, get them to confess their feelings."

"I agree," Charles replied, staring into Max's eyes. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Later, they were in the press conference room, waiting for it to start, and Max and Charles were chatting away.

Y/n: MATE

Y/n: HELP

Y/n: I CAN'T TAKE THIS THIRD WHEELING

Landhoe: you can't complain you got a podium

Y/n: i actually can complain, i've suffered too much

Landhoe: you like seeing them together, don't lie. 

You grinned at that, then glanced up from your phone to see Max and Charles looking at you. 

"Who you texting?" Max asked.

"Just Lando," you shrugged, confused as Charles and Max gave each other a look.

"You guys seem to be getting along well, no?" Charles asked. 

"Uh yeah, I guess. It helps that we're both pretty similar."

"Yes, yes, very similar," Max nodded, and you raised your eyebrow, side-eyeing them. 

"Anyway, you guys have anyone special in your life, yet?" you asked.

The smirk on Max's face faltered as he glanced at Charles for a millisecond before looking back to her. 

"No, not yet, mate."

"Me neither," Charles added. 

You hummed. "Hm, okay."

~~~~~~~~~~

In Suzuka, Lando and you were talking while walking towards the driver's parade. 

"So I'm going to talk to Charles and you're going to talk to Max, sounds good?"

"Yup, I know the plan," Lando confirmed. 

"Great, we'll debrief after the race."

You spotted Charles and quickly ran up next to him before someone else could start a conversation with him. 

"Hey, Charlie! Congrats on your podium in Singapore!"

"Thanks, mate."

"Man, it's crazy how fast the season flew by, it seems like just yesterday I was a scared little rookie rolling up in Bahrain. Anyway, I was hoping to get your advice on something," you said, trying not to bring up the topic too suddenly. 

"Yeah, of course, go ahead."

"Okay, well, let's say hypothetically in a situation where you like someone, but you're not sure if they like you back, and you don't want to say anything because it could ruin your friendship and it would be awkward because you have to see them for the majority of the year, what would you do?" you asked, trying to gauge his feelings about potentially confessing his feelings. 

Charles glanced somewhere behind you, and you didn't want to look but you would've bet a million bucks that it was at Max.

"Well, if you're feeling like that person even just maybe likes you back, I say go for it. You wouldn't want to waste precious time that you could be spending together because you were too scared."

"So you're saying that if you like someone, you should just go for it?" you confirmed. 

"Yeah."

"Interesting..." you rubbed your chin, then turned to look at Max behind you. 

Meanwhile, Lando and Max were deep in conversation. 

"What would you think if two of the drivers started dating? Cause some of these people have some real chemistry," Lando asked, trying to seem nonchalant. 

Max shrugged. "I mean, yeah, some of us have known each other since our childhoods. I wouldn't be surprised if some crushes have developed. It's not my business, but I don't mind. It would be interesting, though."

"What about Charles and Pierre?" Lando egged on, waiting for a reaction. 

He watched in satisfaction as Max's eyes turned a shade darker and his jaw clenched. "Nah, I don't see it. But you and Y/n seem to be getting awfully close."

Lando couldn't help the blush that painted his cheeks. He tried to say something but was at a loss for words, mouth gaping like a fish. Max started snickering.

"We're just friends," he finally stuttered out.

"Alright, if you say so."

Lando sighed, turning away in disappointment. That did not go according to plan. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Max won the race, and because the McLaren was good in the high speed corners, Lando finished 2nd and yourself 3rd. 

You and Lando hugged as soon as you got out of your cars.

"Wohoooo! Let's go!" you cheered as you both ran to the fence of McLaren workers. 

You got done with the interview and was the first one in the cooldown room. You had put your helmet down on the platform and was drinking your water. You heard the others entering and turned around, bumping into Lando. 

"Oh, shit!" you exclaimed as you dropped your water bottle. 

You both bent down to grab it, causing your hands to touch and both of you to pause. Lando then grabbed you bottle and you both stood up, staring into each others' eyes for a couple seconds before you snapped out of it and moved to grab your water bottle. 

"Thanks," you said quietly. 

Lando was still looking at you, before quickly saying, "You're welcome."

You noticed Max watching you and the camera on you, so you cleared your throat and moved around Lando to sit on one of the chairs. 

"That was a good overtake, in the beginning," you commented to Max, trying to diffuse the awkwardness. 

Before the conference, Max was quick to get on his phone.

Max: Holy shit, I have so much to tell you about Lando and Y/n

Max: You should come to my hotel room tonight

Max: I think we're in the same hotel

Charles: I have stuff to tell you too. What time?

Max: Does after dinner, 9:00 work? 

Charles: That's perfect

Max: Great, my room is 1633

Charles: See you then ;)

And for some reason Max felt like a giddy schoolgirl at the thought of Charles coming to his hotel room.

You and Lando kept stealing glances at each other whenever the other wasn't looking, and it was so frustrating.

Later, when it was just around 9:00, Max waited (im)patiently for Charles to knock on his door, and he jumped when he finally heard the noise, getting up to let him in. Charles walked in nervously. 

"We can sit on the couch," Max commented, and Charles quickly situated himself on one end, and Max on the other. 

"Ok, you go first," Max urged. 

"Well Y/n came up to me during the driver's parade and she was talking about 'hypothetically' liking something but not doing anything about it because it could ruin their friendship. So of course I told her she should just go for it, and then she looked at Lando."

"Oh my God. Lando came up to me during the driver's parade and asked what I would think if two drivers started dating each other, and I said something about how close him and Y/n were, and he blushed. And then in the cool down room, they bumped into each other which made Y/n drop her water bottle, and when they both reached down to pick it up they touched hands. Then they just stared at each other for like 5 fucking seconds."

"Jesus, what is going on with them."

"I know right, like holy fuck just make out already! I'm sick of their pining."

Max shifted on the couch, causing his foot to touch Charles' leg. 

"Anyway, want to watch a movie?" Max asked, and Charles nodded eagerly. 

And that's how they ended up in the pitch dark, a bowl of microwaved popcorn in between them, some racing movie on the television. 

They both reached for the popcorn at the same time, causing their hands to touch, and both of them snapped their heads to look at each other. 

They stared at each other, eyes flickering down to each other's lips...until the sound of Max's phone ringing caused them both to jump apart. 

"Jesus!" Max exclaimed, quickly silencing his phone, and they reluctantly turned back to the movie, moment ruined. 

~~~~~~~~~~

A couple weeks passed until they were in Qatar. Max and Charles hadn't spoken to each other, and there was minimal communication between you and Lando. 

Max would be starting the race on pole, then Lando, you, and Charles. 

As the race went on, it seemed like that would be the finishing order, until halfway through Max started having braking issues. Lando caught up, overtaking Max for the lead, and you did the same a few laps later. 

The rest of the race, Max had adapted to the issue but still had slow pace because of it, which left him defending against Charles. 

The race ended in that order, Lando taking his first win.

"YEAHHH!!! LET'S FUCKING GO BABY! WOOHOOOOOO!!!" Lando cheered. 

They parked up in front of the podium boards. Lando opened his visor, got out of his car and stood on it, holding up his pointer finger and pumped his fist in celebration, fireworks going off in the background in the dark sky. 

You quickly got out of your car and removed your helmet, going straight to Lando. 

"You did it! You fucking did it! I'm so proud of you!" you told him as you pulled him in for a hug. 

He stared at you for a second when you let go, then immediately removed his helmet, putting a hand on your waist, pulling you closer and connecting your lips together. 

You were stunned for a second, before placing your hand on his cheek and deepening the kiss. Everything around you guys went still, like only the two of you existed. You eventually pulled away and could hear the booming of fireworks, the cheers from the crowd, and the whistles from the McLaren team a few feet away. You both blushed as you came to your senses. 

"I really fucking like you," Lando breathed out, slightly winded from the kiss. 

"I would hope so, after that," you teased, before pulling him in for another kiss. 

Max stood by his team, watching the pair from a far, his jaw dropped. 

"Fucking finally," Max sighed. 

But then he glanced behind him and spotted Charles walking to the FIA garage to get weighed, and an irresistible urge overcame him.

He followed Charles into the garage and grabbed his arm, dragging him behind one of the curtains.

"Did you see that! They finally—"

Charles was cut off as Max crashed their lips together.

"I think I've been wanting to do that for a long time," Max admitted when they pulled away. 

"I've been wanting to do that since I pushed you off the track in karting," Charles smiled, and Max smiled back, kissing him again.

—••—••—••—••—••—••—••—••—••—

a/n: i never intended to publish this anywhere but here i am. i literally never write written romance like this so this is really cringe and i cringed while writing it but enjoy ig. if you have any suggestions though please tell me!!

[angelsrcute]

Haloo :D im wondering if u r taking requests now but if u r can u write a fyodor with immortal female reader ? It would be wonderful if u can can but u can ignore this request if u want to

“ But can't you see my dear? I am your doppelganger ♡”

⌗ A LOVE IMMORTAL SUCH AS MINE, WILL COME TO ME, ETERNALLY. 𐙚˙⋆.˚

(´∀��*)ε｀　) ౨ৎ N–sfw content !! ; Dom!Immortal!Vampire!Fyodor + Sub!Immortal!Vampire!F!Reader ➜ cws: Modern au, Jealous!Fyodor, Vampire themes, fwb → lovers, alcohol mentions, biting, unprotected sex + use of lube, tit play, overstimulation, creampie, oral sex (f receiving), slight Yandere!Fyodor(?), Soft!Fyodor.

꒰ † ੭ — this ended up being my longest fic ever, lol, 1.3k words!! I am taking reqs! + a lil inspiration from olgami, it's such a good webtoon. (人´∀`)♪ Translation: "Мышка" (myshka)

When humans age, they die and pass on to the afterlife, don't they? Death was something that never came to you, ah immortality, such a cool thing. It was more like a curse to you, humans coming and going, years passing by but still no one seemed to notice the same face walking among them for all these decades. Faces unrecognisable as you try to remember their names, their relation with you, not that it mattered anyway.

Relationships were a nuisance, blink and they're already gone, dead, as you stand in their funeral. It was a really funny thing, oh how you wished you could die instead of watching your loved ones die.

Fyodor Dostoevsky. Not a famous name for humans but for vampires, they say he's the oldest vampire to ever live. Have you ever met with him? You did, decades ago, in his bed, in his mansion, fyodor needed some relief and so did you.

He was the one who saved you from your death, why? Because he thought you were interesting. He'd take care of you and teach you how to hunt, how to kill people and make sure no one finds out. He seemed like a lonely man too, house deep in the woods, living all by himself.

The other vampires though, had this bloodlust, to kill him, to become the lord themselves. Everyone clawing at any chance they get, to paint their fingers red with his blood. You never understood their reasoning, what's so good living a life like this?

Dressed in the finest silk and jewelries, he liked seeing you in white clothing the most. He said it made you look like a saint, the saint that brought some change to his boring life. He definitely wasn't a fan of other vampires eyefucking you at meetings. Well, they'd end up going missing anyway.

Cleaning up after him was annoying, why did he have to be so busy? that also playing the piano as he drank wine. Blankly staring at the body in front of you as you clean the floor, muttering curses at him.

It didn't take long but you fell for him, yearning for his touches, but you could never confess, fearing it would ruin your relationship. Your body burning like fire as he kisses you, snapping his hips against you, dress ripped off and discarded on the floor.

“You liked that dress? I'll tell them to make one for you again, money isn't a problem for me.”

Cold slender fingers playing with your nipples as he decorates your neck with bite marks, drawing blood from them. Tongue darting out to lick the blood as he whispers about how sweet you taste to your ears. Your nails digging into his shoulders as your eyes roll back from pleasure, his hands holding your leg up at this point.

Everything was going smoothly until one day he disappeared, without a single word. All the other vampires went crazy over this fact. Some were happy thinking he finally died, some just disappointed that they couldn't be the one killing him.

You returned to Russia after a lot of years, travelling all over the world, everything was different to you, with the years, technology also grew, like for instance, this human was staring into a phone. Bumping into you and not saying a single apology but they had the audacity to curse you instead, calling you blind.

Well, guess you just found yourself dinner, how lucky. Hiding the body with no effort, muttering to yourself “The world would be a little better without people like this.”

You went down an alley, there was a nice bar here, you remembered. Entering it, you took a seat after ordering your favourite drink. From the corner of your eyes, you could see a stranger coming up to you, sitting beside you, “I've never seen you around here, darling, do you need some help? I know a really nice place around here–”

The man went on rambling about nonsense, poor attempts at flirting, and why is he even talking about himself, you don't remember asking. Quietly sipping on your drink as you ignored the stranger. The stranger, though, seemed offended, “Hey I'm talking to you, whore, if you don't want attention, dress up more!”

Now that part really got on your nerves, what were you supposed to wear, a long ass winter jacket? You could just pretend to play along and just kill this guy, not even interested in drinking his blood! But someone else's voice stopped you, a voice too fucking familiar.

It was none other than fyodor, you watched as he grabbed your wrist and pulled you by his side, eyes narrowing at the stranger with a smile, “It's really rude to flirt with someone's lover, don't you think? You'll walk away from here and remember nothing.” The guy on command, got up and left the bar, the people in the surrounding, definitely didn't care.

“You look like you've seen a ghost, Мышка.” He chuckled, as if he just met you yesterday and not decades ago.

“What the fuck? Where the hell were you for all these years!?” You shouted at him, burning a hole into his face with your glare, “Of course I'm surprised, am I not supposed to be when you appear like that? God!”

“Let's discuss it somewhere private, shall we? I know a hotel nearby.” You hated how composed he seemed to be, but still followed him, giving him a chance to explain himself.

“I was a bit hurt, dear, why didn't you tell the man to leave? or were you interested?” He asked while sitting down on the bed.

“Is that what we're talking about? Give me an explanation, fyodor, where the hell were you?”

“A bit busy, don't mind me, I had business that needed to be taken care of.”

“That's it? You could've at least told me a goodbye! or sent letters.”

“Ah, but that would give away my location, wouldn't it? I didn't want any disturbances, but enough about me, where were you? I couldn't find you in my mansion.”

“I was travelling, and I did not see a point in staying there if you weren't there but you really had me worried, you know?” You sighed, sitting beside him.

Well this was supposed to be meeting up with a past ‘friend’. So why did this turn into a fucking session? According to a certain someone, he wanted to make up for his mistakes!

Currently between your thighs, lapping up your folds like he hadn't eaten in years, savouring the taste like it was his favorite meal. He teased your clit with his tongue, gently flicking it, before sucking it into his mouth. Your moans and whines were music to his ear, he could feel you were close, his tongue speeding up to make you cum.

“F-fuck…gonna cum–” You stammered before cumming, lewd slurping sounds filling the room before getting up and kissing you, slipping his tongue in your mouth, making you taste yourself. A string of saliva joining your tongue after he breaks the kiss, he definitely likes seeing you like this— face flushed, hair disheveled, neck decorated by pretty hickeys by him.

You don't remember what round it was, all you can feel is the way he keeps fucking his cum back in your cunt. Sweat glistening on your body as you can't help but let out whimpers due to overstimulation, “T-Too much, fedya…slow down–”

“I'm sure you can cum for me again, my dear.”

He kisses your tear soaked face while rubbing soothing circles on your clit to calm you down. You pull him closer to kiss again, running your hands through his soft hair before he cums in you for the last time and pulls out.

Fyodor runs you a warm bath and then puts you on the bed, climbing in to cuddle with you, well, such a memorable get together isn't it?

Taglist: @blueberrisdove

[reqxxyt]

"Are you ever going to settle down" p.g

pairings: piere gasly x f!reader

warnings: rushed ending, sexual interactions mentioned

masterlist

“Are you ever going to settle down?” my middle-aged aunt sat across from me and asked with the same passive-aggressive smile she gave the rest of the family. I could feel my own mother tense at her words knowing a relationship is the last thing I want and I expressed that very proudly. But instead of trying to get into another stupid argument on how I don’t need a guy to fulfill my needs and wants I just shook my head and smiled the fakest I’ve ever gave. 

“I’m content on my own” I summarized my speech that wanted to itch out of my throat. Her smile dropped before being replaced with one that leaked sympathy, something I hate being the reciprocate of. She turned to my mom, hoping to hear some words from her but all she got was a shrug. 

“What about having children?” I had clearly seen that question coming, being nearly 28 and having most women figures in my family start their family in their early twenties, it's strange to hear someone claim they don’t want kids. At least any time soon. 

“Not in the plan right now,” I said with the urge to leave, hating the interrogating questions. I’ve had my fair share of relationships and I figured out they just aren’t for me. Plus, I am terrible with kids. All the kids I’ve approached just see me as a quiet, intimidating person that stares down at them because they refused to go down on their knees as they have a sensitive backs. 

Later on that same day, I was on a call with my friend of nearly a decade complaining about my aunt and her unnecessary sympathy. 

“Maybe you should consider going back into dating,” she said on edge because she knew how much I hated when people suggested the option. Instead of declaring the same thing I did with my aunt, I simply stared her down until she rolled her own eyes. “Just saying. You can’t live your whole life in a club and hook up with the first person you deem attractive”

“Doesn’t sound so bad” I shrugged but knowing it was a terrible life path. “Besides, I just don’t think there are people out there who want the same things as me. To not have kids right away, to be lenient and just let the relationship be itself until it either ends or feels right.”

“There are lots but okay,” she said and I wanted to groan, starting to become frustrated at the entire situation. “How about I set you up with someone?”

“You?” I asked already hating the idea of that happening. She nodded before saying “Hear me out. I have this distant friend who lives near you, I think you’ve seen him at my boyfriend birthday. Really nice, definitely your type”

“Type? Are we in high school?” I said judging her choice of words making her now the one to give me a blank stare. 

“Shut up. Besides, it will give you a chance to escape from the whole relationship talk with your aunt”

The more I thought about it, the more it didn’t sound so insane to me. Doesn’t hurt to give it a chance, right?

“Fine,” I said and she smiled brightly. “If this doesn’t work, you have to name your kid after me” 

“Never happening. But, if this does work, you have to allow me to make a speech at your wedding” and like that, we made a deal. 

I dressed in a simple outfit, figuring it was going to be cold wearing a blazer with a black long sleeve and dress pants. I hated going on dates because of the first impression and since I had never met this person before, their first impression is visuals. Not like I had much of a choice either way. 

I entered the coffee shop not spotting anyone that stood out and looking as if waiting for someone. I walked up to the cashier ordering a simple latte already imagining the worse as I frantically texted my friend, asking her when he would arrive. 

“Y/n?” I heard my name being spoken from a familiar french accent. I turned around and my movements froze. 

Well he’s definitely my type. I had seen him at the party my friend mentioned. I’d even talked to him, ending up at his place before leaving the next morning without exchanging another word to each other. 

My eyes widened, immediately recognizing him while he searched my face with a curious gaze, trying to recognize me before finally remembering. 

“Well, I finally got your name” he said with a small smile, finding it comical while I wanted to die internally. The one time I hooked up with a guy at a mutual party turns out to be my blind date my friend set me up with. We stood in silence for a moment before I finally looked down, no longer being able to look at his colored eyes. “Pierre”

“Y/n” I said out of pure habit before realizing he already knew my name and face palmed myself, ready to dig my own grave. He only laughed assuring it was fine, ordering his own coffee while I stood on the side waiting for him to finish. 

We sat next to a window, a small booth forcing to face each other. He was the first to speak “I honestly didn’t think I would see you again. Especially like this”

“Neither did I” i mumbled, barely heard by him. I immediately felt terrible for leaving without not saying anything. “I’m sorry for just leaving, I-”

“It’s fine” he shrugged before I could finish my excuse. “Want to start over?”

Hearing those words with his small, comforting smile somehow made me want to stay. I didn’t feel the need to run away like many other situations, I felt okay being here. I wanted to stay. 

“Sure, Pierre” testing out how his name rolled off my tongue, loving it myself. I caught his cheeks getting pinker, whether from the freezing degree whether or my two words, I’ll never know until I would ask months later. “What do you like to do?”

“Well…” and the conversation flowed from there. After the first couple of dates, he asked me out and I without much mental debatting, agreed allowing the relationship to flow on its own. 

After a long 3 years, he asked me to marry him. Again, no hesitation needed. No questioning myself whether this was for the best. 

I didn’t settle down for him. I settled down with him. 

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Little scenario of soldier boy, after he finally wake up and ended up with Butcher and Hughie in motel (ya know that part) , because before all that happened.

When he woke up and wonder around like 'wtf happed to the word when I was kidnapped??' (and after he did a little oops boom on the city) , and when the boys finally found him they tried to talk out at first but he didn't want to but then when Butcher mentioned he personally (literally) knows his daughter and she wants to see him , at first he didn't believe in him but if it's mean finally see his own daughter then yes Soldier boy did follow Butcher and the boys (plus if Butcher did lie Soldier boy could just beat the sh*t out of him and his gang).

So that's how Soldier boy, Butcher and Hughie is on the motel and all waiting, while waiting after soldier boy shaved and all , he was getting nervous and anxious or impatient (idk it's soldier boy we're talking about it, plus if you watched the episode you know what i am talking about).

When soldier boy was about to shout at Hughie at how long are they gonna wait he hear a door opening and reveal a woman accompanied with Butcher, it didn't take a second to know who was this woman was, she is definitely is his own daughter.

"Dad?....."

She asks, and in this instance Soldier boy was almost wanted to cry ......... :3

(I need to take out of my chest this scenario

;3333)

Bruh stop reading my mind 😭😭😂 I was JUST about to write something about SB and mc’s reunion 😂😂

Soldier Boy just restlessly passing back and forth with poor Hughie sitting there almost feeling like a hostage while Billy went to go fetch you.

It was the only way to coax Soldier Boy to follow them back to their rundown motel room: the promise of seeing his baby girl again.

Oh how he'd dreamed of you when he was stuck in Russia between boughts of nightmares. Once in a while, he was blessed with soft visions of you and Homelander as children. He wasn't stupid to think you'd stay that little girl. Decades have passed since he was taken by the Russians and betrayed by his team. You must be a young woman now.

That didn't matter. If there was a chance, he'd take it.

But Butcher was taking way too damn long.

The agitation that radiated off of Soldier Boy made Hughie nervous. Soldier Boy could literally blow up at any minute. Since there was no Temp V in his system at the moment, Hughie would be fucked. Soldier Boy had both booze and drugs in his system that fueled his rage.

Hughie is constantly checking his phone for any reply to his dozens of messages he's sent Butcher. They'd started to teeter on the verge of hysterical. Who would blame him when Soldier Boy was screaming at him and threatening all sorts of torture if Butcher didn't get there soon.

Then by the grace of whatever blessful deity is watching over him, then, the motel door clicks open and is slowly pushed in.

Soldier Boy pauses then straightens from his previous yelling position and holds his breath.

You're hesitant following Butcher inside the room. When he told you your dad was alive. . .

"'Luv." Butcher whispers, his body blocking anyone's view from inside. "'Is alright." You've come to love how fucking gentle and patient he is with you. Really the opposite of how he portrays himself. He's treating you like your someone who would break easily, though he knows you're far from breakable. It was nice though. You hadn't felt treasured like that since you and Homelander were kids.

Your dad hadn't aged at all since the last time you saw him. But it's him. Alive and staring wide eyed at you.

You're scared to say anything. Soldier Boy appeared rougher around the edges, possibly due to his time in Russia or killing Countess just a little while ago. . .

"Dad?"

Blue eyes gloss with tender pink and tears that you knew he'd never let fall in front of anyone. He pushes Butcher out of the way and gathers you in his arms.

Even when he was alive, Soldier Boy NEVER showed signs of affection. Especially hugs!

Against your body, you felt his frame actually tremble. His embrace is almost crushing, Soldier Boy refusing to let you go. What if he was still back in Russia and this was just an incredibly fucked up dream?

"Holy fuck." Soldier Boy mumbles against your hair. "This is fucking real, isn't it? Y-You're real." He pulls away to really look at your face. Eyes red and frantic. "My baby girl. It's really you."

For all of your childhood your relationship with Soldier Boy was complicated at best. You loved him. You hated him. With him right in front of you though after so many years, you can't help but break. You return his hug fiercely.

"Y-Y-you fucking asshole!" You blubber. "You-You- its your fault we-"

"I know, I know." He replies back, burying his face in your shoulder.

You don't notice when Butcher and Hughie leave the room to give you privacy.

"You're home."

"I'm home. I'm finally fucking home." He whispers. And you swear you feel a few of his tears fall against your shoulder.

[ventruevitae]

OC SMASH OR PASS

tagged by @ineed-to-sleep ily <3<3<3

go ahead and consider this a tag if you see it! i can't think of anyone rn + i'll probably be doing these for other ocs anyway so sdgfhhj

--

rules: pretty self explanatory. include physical descriptions or pics, and propaganda. the “other” label can be used for “sexuality misalignment” (ie: oc is femme and you’re gay, vice versa or you aren’t into smashing but a specific thing you wanna do with them like perhaps hug or study them under a microscope idc).

these images are all over the place don't @ me

BASICS:

Full name: Katerina Irakleidis (That last name gets swapped out every few decades. Most people just call her Kat.)

Age: Looks like she's in her mid-twenties, was actually born in the 20s

Height: 5"3-ish (almost always wearing some sort of heel tbh, it's hard to clock her actual height between that & the hair)

Eyes: green

Gender: cis woman

Pronouns: she/her

Sexuality: bisexual (major preference for masc/butch types gender notwithstanding btw lmao)

PROS:

vampire.

bit of a hard outer shell but if you break through it ohh man, truly one of the most passionate & devoted people you will meet

surprisingly selfless also?

knows how to dress well, you'll always have something pretty on your arm & she'll be so happy if you let her coordinate outfits

you want to see the world burn? cool, so does she. just point her in a direction & tell her who you want dead.

really goddamn good in bed. she knows it too.

money isn't a problem. how did she come by it? don't worry about it darling.

loves physical touch. top contender of the cuddliest vampire in LA currently.

she can teach you how to do some fun swing dance stuff from her fledgling years c: (she knows a ton of partner dance styles & is pretty good at making up steps/choreo on the fly--so yes, you will get those midnight kitchen dances if you so desire)

basically a happy/content kat is someone who likes to get pretty domestic with her partners. she seems like she'd be looking for something flashy, but nope. her biggest desire is really just settling into something peaceful & being called someone's baby.

CONS:

vampire but also a Ventrue. ymmv on how much of a con this is.

see above: ventrue possessiveness. not necessarily your fault, but can & will become your problem.

"hard outer shell" = she can be genuinely prickly & argumentative at times and can leave a fairly negative impression on people. doesn't care if this happens 99% of the time either.

will not be staying with you if her sire is still alive.

actually that probably puts a pretty massive target on your back, sorry.

is probably definitely still hung up on her sort-of-not-really-an-ex. you will never be him, i am sorry. can you blame her though, who's out here getting over nines rodriguez?

she has a sister, which would be a pro except this sister is a lasombra who will regularly fuck up any emotional regulation kat has scraped together after they cross paths (assuming it doesn't get more physical)

chain smokes. dead god she smokes So Much. doesn't matter for health reasons, being dead and all, but still.

[fromduck]

Mrs. Afton’s Daily Life: TWO

Warnings: Unedited

Free Accounting Classes at the local Community College. 

(Mondays and Thursdays)

9:00 a.m - 1:00 p.m

Class starts September 05, 1979 and ends May 10, 1980

ALL OUR WELCOME

You stare at one of the flyers near the checkout lane of the grocery. E/C eyes glance at the calendar placed in front of the checkout lane. The date displayed in big bold red letters is “August 25, 1979”. 

‘It hasn’t started yet…’ you think to yourself hopefully, biting on your bottom lip. 

After dropping off both your sons at school, you stopped by the grocery store to buy the food for the week. 

Being the big man that he was, William often ate more than the rest of your tiny family. It wasn’t his fault but food often finished quickly and trips to the grocery were frequent. Not to mention, you also had to feed three growing children that were going to eat more as they grew older. As you both waited in line, you were playing with your little baby.

Dangling your car and house keys in front of her face as she watched, mesmerized by the shiny object. She would grab onto them and you’d have to stop the sweet girl from putting them in her mouth. 

Then you saw the flyer. All your attention zeroed in on its contents. 

Your children’s school didn’t start till 8:30 am and you usually picked them up around 2:30 pm. On Fridays they would get out at 12:30 pm. If you scheduled your time right, you could still do your duties as a housewife and mother. It all just depended on great planning. 

Your teeth dig into your plump lip, anticipation rolling off of you in waves. 

After dropping them off, you could probably drop Elizabeth off with the sweet old lady a couple blocks down the street. Then you’d be gone in the accounting class. Back in college you were interested in majoring in anything business-related but were unable to explore more because of your expulsion. 

Elizabeth looks at you curiously, wondering why her mom stopped paying her attention. 

One of her chubby hands curls itself around your manicured fingers. The tight baby grip, snapping you away from a hopeful dream. William wouldn’t approve of it and taking care of two children and a baby would definitely make being a student difficult. And you nearly spent a decade outside of any colleges, surely adjusting back into the student rhythm would be difficult. 

‘Difficult but not impossible,’ an encouraging voice says in the back of your head. 

“Honey, would you like a bag with that?” The middle aged woman asks you behind the counter. Her kind eyes noticed how you glanced at the college advertisement. 

“Are you considering joining?” She smiles at you kindly, your cheeks flush in embarrassment at being caught. 

“O-oh. I don’t know…it definitely seems advantageous plus it’s free..”

Her honey brown eyes glint in excitement,  

“You definitely should! I’m one of the assistant teachers by the way. Despite being free, the material being taught is the same as any other colleges. The professor is a very kind man that is excellent in teaching. There are also many other free classes available that haven’t started yet, if you’re interested!” The blonde woman’s grin widens as unwillingly the corners of your mouth start to lift. 

“There is..?” You say with awe, e/c eyes sparkling. Chuckling at your amazed expressions, she hands you a flier. 

“Yup! If you’d like I can help you sign up. My name’s Donna by the way.” She offers you a handshake. You accept her hand feeling the soft wrinkly skin of her hand. 

“Y/N. Y/N Afton.” 

Her eyebrows raise to her forehead, “say you wouldn’t be related to that grumpy man William Afton? One of the co-owners at Freddy’s?”

Embarrassed you shake your head, it seems William's unpleasant character was commonly known. 

“I wouldn’t say we're related. He’s my husband.” 

Like the woman from the school her eyes flash with pity before they brighten up again. 

“Oh~? Well isn't he a lucky fella?” You giggle at her praise, feeling bashful of being praised by an older woman.  

She then turns her attention to Elizabeth with a coo, “and who might you be?~”

The baby babbles at her, big e/c eyes zeroed in on the red nail polish of her long nails, making grabby hands at it. 

“This is Elizabeth. She’s only a year old but she’s quite active for her age.” You say playing with one of the bows in her hair.

“Aww~! I remember when my Susie was that age. I wish they stayed that small forever instead of growing up quickly. Now my little girl is starting kindergarten!” 

Smiling at the woman you let out a carefree laugh, “you and me both!”

Both you and Donna exchange numbers, she talks to you more about the accounting class and her daughter as she packs your groceries. When she’s finished you both settle on meeting up soon at the community college so that she can help you sign up. 

By the time you leave the store, you’re smiling so hard that your cheeks hurt. 

Elizabeth, also influenced by your good behavior, claps her small hands at you. Grinning at her, you lean in to press a big fat kiss on her cheek that makes her squeal. 

While you pack the groceries by the truck of your car, you make sure to hide the flier in your purse. Taking extra measures to fold it into a small square and burying it at the bottom of your bag.

Once satisfied, you buckle in Elizabeth and drive back home. Singing along to Abba, “Dancing Queen,” while Elizabeth continued to clap her hands at her mothers singing. 

For the first time in almost a decade, you felt more alive. As if that once ambitious eighteen-year-old girl with big plans for her life never died the day you were expelled. She was always there, waiting for you to get back on track. 

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Hey it's Star Wars incorrect quote time because my original beloveds won't shut up

I know this is a Zelda blog but it's also my blog and I do what I want and I can't get rid of this Star Wars brain rot okay I'm sorry

*in an AU where the Disaster Lineage (and friends) from the OT traveled back to TCW era*

Ben, to Vader and Fulcrum: You're younglings. Vader, rising, agitated: Younglings?! I am--*stops. Stares at Luke really quickly* How old are you? Luke: Twenty-four. Vader, whirling his head back to Ben: I am old enough to have a twenty-four--*realizing what Luke just said* TWENTY-FOUR?? *whips head back to Luke* You're twenty-four?! How--when did--*turns back to Ben, glaring* I'm old as fuck, okay?! Fulcrum: *wheezing* Vader, pointing at her: And she's old too! Fulcrum: Hey! I'm not that old! Vader: We're five years apart in age. You're old. Fulcrum: >:O YOU LIAR YOU SAID YOU WERE LIKE A DECADE OLDER THAN ME Vader: OF COURSE I LIED WHAT ELSE WAS I GONNA SAY TO A FOURTEEN YEAR OLD TO MAKE HER RESPECT ME Ben: The point is-- Vader: THE POINT IS, whether we're talking our actual ages or our physical ones, even in this era I was a general and Ahsoka was a commander. Ben: You're teenagers. Vader: Teenagers in command. Han: How did any of you survive the war Ben: I asked myself that on a daily basis.

XXX

Ben, staring at Vader: Your hair's curlier than usual. Vader, confused:...And? Ben: It only gets curly like that when it gets wet. Vader, who definitely snuck out while it was raining when he wasn't supposed to:...I took a shower. Ben: You smell like ozone and burns. Vader: It's... a new soap scent. Fulcrum: *starts losing it* Ben: Vader: Ben: A soap scent. Vader: Yes. Ben: Where did you go, Anakin Skywalker Vader: To the store. To buy the new soap. Leia: Is he really going to keep trying this? Fulcrum, crying laughing: He'll die on any hill if it means he doesn't admit he did something wrong.

XXX

Ben: Behave while I'm gone. Fulcrum: Where are you going? Ben: My coworker invited me to dinner. This might be a good time to get the information we need. Vader: Oh? Dinner? Fine. We'll stay here. Luke, baffled, staring at Vader: But... you killed him on the Death Star. You're getting along with him now? Vader: Well, for this undercover mission that we were on in this time period, he was acting as Ahsoka and my father. Leia: You posed as a family? Fulcrum: Yeah, it was pretty entertaining. Vader, calling to Ben: Have fun on your date with that coworker, Dad! Ben: >.> Vader, smirking: See, this is much better than killing him.

[cmkren]

The Arishok and His Hero.

;Da2 Arishok x Fem!HoF

The Arishok and the HoF once had an intimate but complicated relationship from when he was a Sten. Tensions are rising in Kirkwall, and his mind subconsciously drifts to a simpler time. A time with her.

Unfortunately for him, there’s one thing he’s forgotten.

a/n: erm, whats up !! I remember struggling writing this because I always though the arishok had like … long hair. so when i figured out he didn’t i just made it a plot point to make things sadder. I am genuinely so sad we don’t get to romance sten in dao argh

also erm sorry got my lore wrong LMAO pretend this is an au where dao sten gets the arishok role immediately after returning

“Well looky you. You aged like fine wine, huh, Sten? Or— I suppose it’s the Arishok now.”

She snarked, a grin on her face but it seemed there was something else behind it. Something deeper, more complex than just two companions reuniting after a long time. That’s all they were, and had been to the outside world. Companions. They didn’t notice the looks, the gentle touches, the desire when one passed the other. Back in the day, that was. Now look at them. Having withered slightly with age.

Mishka had streaks of gray in her hair, though still looking relatively young. Not to mention the barrage of scars on her body— more than when the Arishok knew her. When he had still just been Sten. He changed the most between the two, after all. He was now the leader of the Qunari militia. His hair double the length it was back then, some graying too of course. Wrinkles finally showing up more, more apparent. Long, beautiful horns that Sten lacked back then. Horns she wanted to grab.

“The Hero of Ferelden came to visit. How delightful.” He spoke dryly, making the elf snort and cross her arms. She looked more Dalish now, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about it. Perhaps just a little amused, considering how she used to curse the Dalish as if they were Darkspawn themselves. Perhaps she made some amends with her past and moved on. That would be a first for Mishka. If she had many of those left. The Arishok certainly never expected to see her again, after their departure from one another. Especially after the final fight. Yet here she was.

He sat atop his throne, in the Qunari compound that they had to make due to the misfortune of being stuck in Kirkwall of all cities. Due to his mistake. The stress and tension that’d been building over the last few years, it felt like a pot was going to soon boil over. Being far from Par Vollen didn’t help either— because that meant no Tamassarans. So maybe… that’s why he didn’t call for the Stens around him to apprehend her as she sauntered towards the throne.

His stony stare digging holes into her, watching the familiar movement coming from a woman he used to hold quite close to his chest. Literally and figuratively. The Sten didn’t turn their heads. Maybe it was because he didn’t say anything, or it could have been another reason. He didn’t care. His eyes were only on her. The damned arrogant elf.

The Hero of Ferelden. Small enough for him to tower over, but not fragile that she’d shatter as soon as he put his hand on her waist and squeezed. Definitely not fragile, as she’s shown him dozens of times. That was just when she was starting to hone her skills too, he could only imagine what a decade of hard work and training could do for her. She who sat so languidly in his lap, calloused hand reaching up to caress his face. It made him jolt. That wasn’t the surprising bit. The surprising bit was the way he then keened, and leaned into her touch.

He took in her features. The gnarly burn mark that forever scarred the left side of her face, and travelling to her shoulder. A mark he took upon himself those years ago to heal until she no longer flinched and hissed when he traced his finger over the coarse skin.

Lips that whispered the filthiest things to him. That would spread into a grin when she finally started figuring out how to read him. How to tell what would rile him up and what would absolutely piss him off.

Her hand travelled higher until it tangled itself in his hair, her other hand on his chest. Eyes flitted half closed, looking up at him through long lashes. He who only leaned further down, hardly letting her be the one chasing after him. Instead, he was the one chasing after her. Her touch. Her words.

Her lips parted, putting on display the sharp points she called her teeth. Whenever she raked those across his skin, it felt like a dagger gliding along his body. Little daggers she had in her mouth. “You, Sten,” she breathed out, breath hot against own mouth. His lips parted just the slightest, as if he expected something. Anything.

“Are a useless fucking tool.”

Then there it was. Her hands fell limp. Her head knocked against his own, and the lively body that once sat perched on his lap became limp like a rag doll. The stench of death and charred flesh, the stench of something earthy and dank, the smell of Darkspawn blood.

The top of Fort Drakon. The Archdemon’s corpse on the ground. Next to it, the Hero of Ferelden. She was Grey Warden, to die killing the Archdemon was her purpose. He knew better than anyone— anyone that to stop her from fulfilling that purpose would have made him a hypocrite. So who was he, the man who followed the Qun to the T, who was he to deny her that privilege of purpose he devoted and spoke of? That’s why, while everyone rushed to her side to help fight the Archdemon, he stayed away. He wasn’t there when she drew her last breath. When she fulfilled her purpose.

What of his purpose?

As he stared at the Asala she returned to him. The weapon he killed for when he found out it was missing. For the first time in a while, after that fight. Her death. He questioned it. He questioned it all. The Qun. His life. His faiths. His purpose.

Suddenly, she appeared before him. The Archdemon looming from behind, its breath puffing out smoke with every breath it took. The sky a bewitching and venomous purple, Mishka’s lifeless eyes stared into his. “Tal-Vashoth. Your faith wavered. Your people should have thrown you out,” a storm brew above, “just like you did to me.”

A flash and a bang.

Then nothing.

When vision came to him once again, he was staring up at his tent. Surrounded by handmade, quality cushions all for the Arishok. His bed roll a mess, no doubt from him tossing and turning. His body slightly damp from sweat, as he pushed himself up and off the ground. Locks of hair falling in front of him, as he breathed in and out.

She was dead. She has been for ten years. That had been a figment of his imagination. Unbeknownst to him, it was the guilt that had been building up for a decade. Guess it finally spilled over during this time of high stress. He kneeled, quickly dressing himself and making himself look presentable. Anything to take his mind off of… that.

“Arishok. The diplomat from the Viscount has finally arrived.” Spoke a Sten outside his tent. The Arishok only grunted, right. He had visitors today. More to add to his migraine, he supposed. He slinked out of his tent, eyes squinting just the slightest as the sunlight hit his vision. His head throbbed. He could feel it, still feel her touch. The way she pulled on his hair, so close to the protruding horns adorned with gold bands.

“You know, you’d look absolutely dashing with long hair. I’ve always loved that look on men. Especially you.”

Spoken to him, by her during a drunken night. Oghren convinced her to drink with him, and that made her ten times the more honest than she usually was. Which was honestly a feat. There was certainly more to that memory, but he’d rather leave it untouched. The Arishok looked back to his tent. He supposed a change in his appearance wasn’t criminal.

•••

“What should I say, hm? Fenris, you know a bit of Qun right? C’mon, give me some phrases!”

“I’m afraid learning them right here right now when we’ve already entered the compound would be a bit of poor taste, Hawke. Should have asked me before we came.”

“D’awh, s’okay Hawke! Sure elfy there will gladly aid you in translating some of our delightful conversation topics of the day.”

“Careful— The elf might just end up with us gutted. You know how he is.”

Four pairs of eyes landed on him when he finally walked out. A blonde mage, a white haired elf, a dwarf with a cross bow, and a human. A human with..

“Speak. Now.” His voice came out as a rumble, perhaps with a little more animosity than needed. Yet he could not help it. He sliced off his hair moments before coming out so he wouldn’t have to have a constant reminder of that woman�� and here another one was. With similar hair colour and skin, not to mention facial markings as well. And an arrogant little smirk on her face.

Even in death she found ways to piss him off.

[the-uraniumverse]

Oh boy François lore drop time!! I'm sure absolutely nothing cursed will be revealed

⛏️ after srugeling to survive in Canada for 4 years as a gold miner he discovered uranium at the ripe age of 23

And he did this totally on his own, and definitely not because he made a deal with a demon deer he dubed the Mighty Buck and killed another gold miner to steal his mining spot

⛏️ 1800s equivalent of a vegetarian

⛏️ had a retired mining canary named oats that would just sit perched on his shoulder as he went about his day and outlived him by 5 years living to be 20 years old

⛏️ françois and lizzy have the same beauty mark placements

⛏️ in a way predicted his own death

After 30 something years he saw the mighty buck outside his home and knew that if he wanted the wealth he faught so hard to get to be passed on to his neice he'd have to "renew their contact"

Aka die of prolonged radiation poisoning

⛏️ françois detailed everything from coming to modern day uranium to be a gold miner, to being a closeted gay in the 1800s, and the blood pack he made with a deer and its subsequent "renewal" in a diary that upon his death Bernadette( his neice) discovered and promptly hid away because

Holy fuck

And it has been hidden away for decades, just waiting for Lizzy to discover while rummaging through her grandparents' attic

⛏️ st cassian's make it a field trip to go to the grave yard and watch the Geiger counter going off at his grave for ✨science✨

Was the Mighty Buck actually this cured forest spirit that demanded blood sacrifices

Was it just a normal deer that looked fucked up and stumbled upon an incredibly desperate and unstable mans camping sight

Who knows 🤷‍♂️

All one knows for certain is that to françois it was real

me taking a second to stare at this lore and reflect i am so invested

i love when people lore drop please do it more often chat ☹️

[cassisanasshole]

this fucking poem i made on allpoetry.com at the age of 12 (cw SH)

in honor of 2024 being around the corner i would like to announce the first poem i ever wrote on allpoetry.com at the age of 12 years and 4 months. coming up on a fucking decade on this piece in which my little awful shitty emo angsty self decided to both start and end the poem with the word 'forevermore',

You are not Edgar Allan Poe, you are a 12 year old girl

i cannot emphasize this enough. i look back on this as an adult and go what in the sweet ever loving fuck. who else was like a super fucking mentally ill 12 year old? i swear to hades, i asked for fallen for my 11th birthday. when i was about that age i drew this picture:

it was a girl drowning in some sort of body of water, with what i can only describe as a traditional comically large drowning boulder attached to her ankle. her cartoonish face stared, panicked, at the viewer--as her mouth, losing air with bubbles and all--uttered one last phrase, scribbled into a curly-q speech bubble.

"I'm going under!"

a callback to the timeless classic going under by evanescence, first track on the aforementioned album fallen.

when i went to school in the fifth grade we had computer lab. sometimes we were graced with the sweet, sweet blessing of free time. in my infantile years as i perceived it then, i did silly things like webkinz. but now i was too old for webkinz (in public--not at home) i was onto bigger and better things such as:

listening to 2012 bangerz such as starships and party rock anthem on full blast with one headphone hanging out to prove i was normal. and then, on hard days when i could not resist the temptation, pulling up evanescence and linkin park and green day and listening to them very quietly.

Nobody could know i was an emo in the making.

once middle school hit though, this was where i found myself: the troubled pubescent experience of being a girl forming kik groups with her in real life friend and random internet strangers. some of whom were our age, some of whom significantly too old to be interacting with us (we know this story.)

staying up til like...2 am! (sleep, child!) to try and convince these essentially random people to not yoink themselves.

well one of these internet friends i don't even remember his name, says all of that and then just disappears, so i wrote this poem. i guess it was what this experience stirred up in me considering i had definitely never seen his smiling face

anyway uh yeah i don't know what the fuck you're meant to take from this but

HAVE IT!

[delta-pavonis]

Greetings and salutations!

I'm feeling very random today and I keep seeing things about people wanting more interaction, so I'm doing a thing. What is your favorite story, if you have one? And does it have any music you've arbitrarily assigned to it?

HELLO NONNY!

Interaction when I am kinda looking for something to procrastinate and distract myself?! Don't mind if I do! (Funny story, literally started writing this in early April and it has languished in my drafts until early July, go me.)

Now, what is unclear is if you mean favorite story I have written or favorite story I have read. SO YOU GET BOTH.

(It is also technically unclear if you mean fanfic or Officially Published™️ Story, so I am going to run with fanfic just for fun.

1. I actually don't think I could 100% choose a favorite story that I have read. Like, far too dependent upon my mood. I think the closest I get to "favorite" might be ones I find myself thinking of often or ones that I come back to over and over again in my head. Not necessarily rereading, but that have changed my brain chemistry enough that I think about them randomly, even decades later. And because even then I am incapable of choosing one, I am going to give you one that is from AGES ago and one that is recent.

Recent: Bolt in the Blue by @valeriianz and Maneskin's TIMEZONE. I connect these two so strongly I wrote my own fic about it. But also I just will be listening to the radio and randomly think of that fic and be like, yeah, BitB Dream would write that line. Or BitB Desire would perform the shit outta that.

OG: Fuck me, this isn't even a fandom I was major into, but the Hellsing manga/anime? There is an Alucard/Alexander Anderson fic out there, FROM BACK IN THE LJ AND FF.NET DAYS, that still lives rent free in my head and I don't know if I will ever find it again. Either the fic title or the author's name had something to do with "Joker" or "djoker." I know I found it a second time at some point years ago using the wayback machine and then lost it again. *sigh* No music for this one, though, just strong images (which, major spoilers for the anime and manga, so I won't detail) and Alucard noting that despite staying unconscious for all the painful things that have happened to his body, of course Anderson wakes at the gentlest kiss. No music for this one, just vibes.

2. As for what I have WRITTEN, I am actually most proud of and like three fics:

One is the Hellknight!Hob fic, which is still my longest finished fic and definitely the largest in scale. Also sometimes I just pull up @teejaystumbles's art for it on my computer and stare at it. There are two songs that my brain has stapled to this fic:

Ashes by Stellar

All Comes Crashing by Metric

Two and three are the two epistolary fics I have written: i had a dream (i got everything i wanted) and you might be the answer to the sinner in me. Both titles are, amusingly enough, from songs. One by Billie Eilish and the other by <insert shocked Kirk face> Maneskin. Incidentally, all the chapter titles in the latter of those two also come from the song.

[somsesh]

Why do we need to be so consistent all the time?

It just occurred to me one recent Monday that I have been quite hard on myself, demanding that I perform every single day with the same consistency. I felt this way more after returning home from taking a course for almost two weeks. Being away from home feels tough because I miss Sufi, and while it’s nice to come back home, it also brings a barrage of things on my to-do list that I need to tend to. I love making lists. It helps me organise my day and to know what has to be looked into in the near and distant future too. While it’s good to have lists, it also repeatedly nails down the fact that there is so much to do every day. The enormity of lists can be a crippling factor to my own efficiency when it’s staring me back so closely. But then one day a switch turned and a voice erupted within my head asking why I am trying to be consistent every single day. When our days are not the same because of the so many uncertainties revolving around it, then why must be ticking all the boxes too. I remember last year around this time Chelsea was struggling massively to play up to everyone’s expectations. Chelsea, a Club that has had a winning legacy in the last couple of decades has had a downward fortune lately. Change of ownership, staff, manager (nothing new about that), and players leaving had removed the core structure of the club. Then the long injuries of many players didn’t help the cause much. With all this going on one would ideally temper down their expectations, but the narrative I saw from football pundits always went on the same tune of how winners find a way to perform no matter what. While it’s commendable for people and teams to do well even with ongoing adversities, why does it have to be made a yardstick to beat everyone else with it? I had been doing the same to myself. I am not a guy in my 20s-30s anymore who could just roll out of bed each morning and start working with nothing else to attend to. My list of responsibilities has increased too with my age, and that’s a normal thing because this is what adulthood means. I had been still looking at my work efficiency model from a younger version of myself, and I won’t be able to match up to that age and effort because I just don’t have that kind of time anymore. I am trying to understand that I have to allow myself to be okay with things slipping away from my hand. I won’t be able to show up for each and everything to the best of my abilities because I should allowed to be inconsistent. I had read a quote by Ed Smith that every good process needs an anti-process. Similarly, to be consistent, you need to be inconsistent too. But it’s also the social media trap that has made this idea of consistency a painful reminder. The experts keep going on about how on social media you need to be consistent to get traffic. You need to post every single day, you need to be consistent with your tone. Maybe for a business that makes sense, but as an individual, we have good days and bad days. On good days, I am happy to share and interact, on bad days I need solitude. This made social media a difficult space to navigate with my earlier inert demand for consistency. Self-improvement is a trap, and we should be allowed for our inadequacies as much as for our abilities. I tried too hard to understand why we need validation because social media depended so heavily on it. It does feel good to me when I something I share resonates with someone. Seeking validation is not always a sign of downright narcissism. There is the negotiating space of balance. You tow this line of getting validation carefully. Maybe don’t deny validation vehemently, and definitely not gorge on it.

[facetsofthecloset]

Ramblings on 🪲 🧃 sequel below (untagged bc I don’t really want discourse)

Apparently some people genuinely think BJ having Lyd’s picture on his desk in the second movie is proof that he’s madly in love with her and like

…y’all can have your takes but keep them over there

Do I believe he may have become fixated on her the past 36 years bc she epitomizes a failure and he’s a messy bitch who loves revenge and the last word? Totally

But like dude. Did we watch the same two movies????? What do you MEAN he’s IN LOVE with the FOURTEEN YEAR OLD he was clearly just trying to marry for the sake of his larger goal of getting tf out of the afterlife, who he hasn’t seen or spoken to in over three decades???

And I say this AS A SHIPPER, I’ve always shipped them (not with her as a kid but I loved the cartoon growing up and you don’t think too much about the age gap when you yourself are a kid), and like.

Do I think the sequel should have ended with them getting hitched and trying to figure out this new weird dynamic? Yeah absolutely I’m writing fic about it as we speak, I think it was a cop out and a coward’s move that they didn’t

(Also the editing was SO BAD, the whole fucking wedding song is like 7+ minutes and the editing is telling you they’re going to get married, it’s BUILDING towards them getting married, so when they don’t then it’s just a let down. The original movie wedding scene was edited with the goal being STOP THE WEDDING therefore when he gets sandwormed, the scene has fulfilled its goal!!! Huge difference! You can’t be like “oh THIS time they’re totes gonna do it WHOOPS nah nvm” YOU COWARDS

It has the same vibes as the GOT finale being shit bc the writers were salty about people guessing the twists and changing it out of spite

God the editing was bad throughout especially with the pacing but whatever)

But I do NOT think he’s madly in love with her or anything, not at that point. He might be obsessed with her but that’s not love, he just wants to finish what he started and he loves making people uncomfortable.

He’s a grifter and he keeps people off balance by being random and crass and disgusting so you keep going “wait what? Ew!” instead of getting room to think critically or formulate strategy to oppose him

And all the overtly romantic gestures he makes towards Lyds are just that???? He wants to get married for the “getting out” part and he acts like he’s in love with her and “sincere” about it bc that’s what he thinks it’ll take to get her to agree+grossing her out+wearing her down

IF they were forced to spend time together and he wasn’t allowed to hurt her or people she cares about, MAYBE they could grow a very weird and dysfunctional kind of love. It’d be fucked up but it’d be interesting and entertaining hence the fic

But like?? Just in the text??? There is definitely no actual love there and if you think so…we clearly have very different definitions of love like yeesh

The most generous I would be is he might have a soft spot for her. I mean, if you spend long enough thinking about someone, even if you hate them, it means you care. I do think he cares about her, but not in a romantic way.

More like you’d care about a spot you missed while painting and you keep staring at the little gap which is tiny and barely noticeable really but it BOTHERS you bc fuck that should’ve been a gimme, you were in the zone you had all your paints and brushes and you were cooking, how the fuck did you miss that one little spot???

And having that unresolved feeling grow over the years until he’s not able to think about other methods or alternatives to achieve his goal, so it shifts from “escape the afterlife” to “fuck with Lyds to make up for that one time,” explain it as being in love to other people bc frankly that’s less weird than what is actually happening and bc he has a reputation for being gross to maintain

That’s my interpretation anyway and I just. Am utterly baffled by how anyone can look at what is presented on screen and go “oh he totally loves her.” No, I think he wants to have power over her bc she fucked him over once, and it’s especially humiliating that she was a kid at the time. THAT’S what all the flirting and fuckery is about, it’s about power and control.

He acts random and out of control but that’s how he controls the pace of the interaction! That’s him exerting power over people and situations! In my personal definition of love he would actually do that LESS bc for real love to exist there needs to be respect, and he has NONE in the movies

Which is why an in-character fic would need to be a serious slow burn to get him to even BEGIN to ENTERTAIN the notion of MAYBE having a TINY bit of respect for anybody or anything

And that’s interesting!!! That’s so interesting and possible if difficult! He DOES actually help her both in the original movie and this one, and that’s the tiny little chink in the armor that makes the fic writer in me go there, that’s our way in.

He has SOME lines he won’t cross—if he makes a deal he sticks to his end of the bargain. After that you’re just haggling over price, and that’s where the fic comes in, but if you expect me to go right from the start with him being in love with her…yeah no absolutely not, you’ve just skipped over all the juicy bits

Also even if/when he does catch feelings, he’d take forever to realize it and when he did he’d be PISSED. You’d have to drag him kicking and screaming into being even slightly nicer, he’d HATE being truly emotionally attached to someone, I think he’d find it utterly appalling and unacceptable bc to him that’s giving power over him to someone else

Which ultimately is what I think he hates about being dead and being summoned with his name, those are rules that have power over him and THAT’S why he wants out. He wants freedom most of all and I think it would take a very specific situation and a LONG time to maneuver him into a relationship that he wouldn’t find confining, or at least find acceptably confining

Anyway I gotta get back to writing

[dallasareaopinion]

I am supposed to call someone dumb or stupid or whatever or worse

Yet YOU are not dumb or stupid or whatever or worse. It is not that I feel I have to insult someone, it is just society seems to relish in it. And that is not correct. It is not society that wants me to insult someone or some thing, but rather I wonder have we just devolved to that point. And I think not. So what gives?

Is it social media? Is it the media? Maybe.

I would love to have tons of likes on “X” what use to be Twitter. Why can’t it just be twitter? People change things for reasons that make no sense or it gives them a sense of power. I affected your life by my action. Yet is that true? I still say the same thing I would have no matter the medium. Maybe some people are affected. There seems to be even more hate on Twitter I mean “X” than before. Is it because the name changed? Or because the owner changed? Or because we are just going further down the crazed rabbit hole no matter what you call it or who owns it?

People are obsessed with being accepted by their side. And I am not sure what that even means anymore. Politically we have two sides and everything is geared for those two sides to control our lives. I personally have railed against this for decades and in print for over a decade now. Yet what do the great unwashed masses think is their side. Certainly not the political sides, but are they accepting that the two sides as their only choice or have they gotten to the point where they don’t even care anymore. Of course that presumes that at some point the great unwashed masses cared.

Polls say the majority of this country does not want a Biden v. Trump rematch, yet we are staring at it in the face. We got it no matter what we wanted. So what gives?

Did Ms. Haley make a valiant effort? Or was it just a waste of media space all along? I am perturbed she dropped out. I wasn’t going to vote for her, but I was routing for her.

Yet as a person that posts on some type of social media, do I fail because I do not have a thousand likes and is it because I do not play the hate game? Do I succumb to insulting the other side to make a bigger name for myself? Yet I am against both sides. I do say both sides have failed this country, but I do something “weak” and attack them on points, try to come up with something better, argue for policy changes, patter for new ideas, but it falls on deaf ears or unresponsive ears. Why? Do I need to say horrible things to get noticed?

Some people might call me a Mike Milquetoast, someone who acquiesces or lets others run over them because I do not attack, yet those same people do not define on what hill I should die on. That is for me to choose. I feel no matter what age you are, whether you are 33, 43, 53, 63, 73, 83 acting like the 13 year old mean girl is not the answer. And just because I do not act like the 13 year old mean girl does not mean I am not ready to fight. Again I choose what hill I die on. And quite frankly like 99.999999… percent of humanity I am not ready to die on a hill, any hill. I may have an inkling of what that may be, but like most everyone except the Saints I am not that strong, yet it is mine to choose. And it is definitely not joining the crowd and spewing vindictives against some imaginary enemy to make me feel good.

Yet here we are staring as a country at something we say we do not want. The hate, the candidates, the public ridicule some people are suffering through for no reason are some of the current madness we say we don’t want, but open your local social media outlet and what do you have.

Invite someone to a barbecue, a back yard cook out, a dinner party, and we can talk about everything, but what it is we don’t want. Sports, books, movies, recipes, how to build a better deck for the backyard, cars, makeup, the list goes on, and we might even disagree about some aspects of it like what is the best sauce for barbecue, but what is staring us in the face right now we cannot bring up. People who normally like each other have been set on fire with angst about someone being on the other side. There is no compromise because it has become sacrilegious to say lets get something accomplished. I am willing to concede a point to do something better is criminal behavior. You have failed your side. And quite frankly we are all on the same side just looking differently at the answers. Does our side’s answers make us feel better? What gives?

I will continue to offer my version of sanity. Some type of idea that normalcy, what ever that may be, still exists. I will not create more hate just to get a name, yet I still want some success. How does a person create space for themselves in this environment by trying to jolt people awake to something better? What can give?

I hope to find out, but for now have a good evening.